


Kin

by haisai_andagii



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Superman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:11:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haisai_andagii/pseuds/haisai_andagii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred's birthday is coming up and everyone is invited... Even if they don't want to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

** Monday **

Gotham is an urban tapestry of taillights, sirens and people, weaving through its dark, dangerous streets.  But in the middle of this beautiful chaos, Superman sees him.  He sees the man that he has been looking for, sprawled across a black tar top of an East Side tenement rooftop.    

There’s no mistaking that shock of white hair; that red helm; that stench of gunpowder, metal and blood.

Superman descends from the clouds onto the building below and floats up to the man’s pliant form. 

“Jason, is that you?”

Bright eyes fly open.  The young man rolls onto his side and casts Kal a piercing look.  He smirks wolfishly, a cigarette hanging from the sharp corners of his mouth.  He exhales easy and deep, curls of white smoke seep from his nostrils.  And Kal remembers.  He remembers that scent: the scent of a Robin who loved menthol (and chili).

“What do you want, Sailor Moon?” Jason grunts, flicking ash at him.  “I finally have a quiet night and you show up.”  Even though he can move mountains, Kal-El’s struggles not to flinch beneath that piercing glare.  Bruce would be proud.

“I need a favor,” Superman says.  “I’d like you to come with me back to the manor-”

“I ain’t going anywhere.  Especially not there,” he cuts him off, his voice thick and gruff.  “But if you want some entertainment, I’ve still got plenty of Kryptonite.”  

“I know you won’t hurt me.”

“You sure, Big Blue?” Jason smiles wickedly, his hand shooting into folds of his jacket.  Kal knows he can beat him on the draw.  Suddenly, the young man pulls out a silver flask.  He takes a long swig.  He sighs in satisfaction - the fug of his breath stark against the night sky.  “It's homemade.  You want some?”

“N-no, thanks."

“Look,” Jason begins slowly, pulling himself to his feet. “In the old days - like when I spouted nonsense like ‘Gee golly, Batman!’ and wore scaly panties- I would have loved to hang-out with a bunch of grown-ass men in tight spandex-”

“For Rao’s sake!” Kal blurts out, somewhat embarrassed by his shamelessness. “It's for Alfred!”  

“...What?”

"His birthday is next week."

"And?"

“His wishes you would come back home.”

“Come back home?,” Jason parrots.

“...for some cake,” Superman finishes lamely.

Some club goers’ inebriated laughter and raucous shouts fill the awkward silence.  With his eyes still locked with Kal’s, Jason takes sips from his flask and wipes his mouth on a tattered sleeve.  Kal can see it.  He can see Jason’s mind warring with his heart.  He wants to tell Jason that he’s sorely missed but his desire is short lived as the young man throws his hands and head skyward with a frustrated cry.

“You’re an asshole!” Jason shouts before grabbing up his belongings and shoving his helmet on.  Kal is behind him in an instant when he climbs onto the ledge.  “I’ll send a fucking card!”  himself out of Superman’s reach and dives head first off the building, melting into the black of the alley below like a wraith.  Kal’s never been successful in catching any of the Bats - especially the ones that don’t want to be caught.

With a sigh, he shoots back up into the starless sky.  Gotham’s sister city - Metropolis- shimmers quietly as he flies across the bay.  

“What happened to you, Jason?” he asks the air.  Kal’s at his apartment before he knows it.  Lois left the window open for him.  He smiles as he climbs in and find her dozing on the couch.

“Oracle?” he said quietly into his earpiece as he retreats into their bedroom.

“You did what you could,” she answers sympathetically.

“I guess I’m out of the pool,” Clark says with a laugh.

“Frankly, you never had a chance.”

“Hey!”

“Besides, we all know I am going to win” Barbara continues, Clark can hear her mouth pulling into a smile. “Jason had the hots for me as a kid.”

‘We’ll see.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Tuesday**

Tim knocks with trepidation on a paint peeled door. The only reason he finds himself standing in an East Side alleyway at the entrance of Jason’s newest hovel is because he’s on a mission.

“It’s for Alfred,” he reminds himself, quelling the fear in his stomach at the sound of approaching footsteps.  He can hear the peephole cover being lifted and its owner sighing in agitation.

“Seriously, Drake?!” Jason barks through the door. “Are you here about Alfred’s birthday?!”

“I have an invitation too,” he replies, holding it up in front of the peephole. It’s a bright blue envelope with a drawing of a stick figure with a comb-over and several bats. “I-It’s supposed to be Alfred... Dick drew it.”

“Then, he needs to see a specialist because that is terrible.”

“Yeah, I thought Damian drew it at first,” Tim muses. “But listen, we’d love it if you would come by next-”

Without warning, several gunshots whiz past his ear and into the alley wall. Calmly, Tim shoves the invitation beneath the door before he takes off running.

 

**_Wednesday_ **

Spring comes to Gotham. Winter lingers but Gotham sheds its icy shroud one budding leaf at a time. The air is crisp, fresh. Dick Grayson finds himself in Robinson Park, trotting along side an unusually well-behaved Krypto. Signs of spring are everywhere. The ground is dotted with crocuses, pushing their purple heads from beneath the frozen, gray earth. The morning sun’s golden rays stretch across and cascade everything in an ethereal, heavenly light. Dick smiles at the sight of a Red-Breasted Robin - his namesake - hopping along the ground. It trills sweetly, cocking its head he passes.

It’s a perfect Spring morning. It’s a time for new beginnings and fresh starts. He throws a playful wink at his canine companion, who wags his tail in reply.

As they come around the bend, Dick sees Jason sitting on the bench under the statue of Solomon Wayne. Krypto takes off and all but leaps into the man’s lap. Jason chuckles and scratches the dog’s chin and ears. Dick remembers that he had really loved dogs. He and Ace were inseparable during his run as Robin.

“Good morning, Jason!” Dick says happily. His brother grunts and tilts his head in reply. With a smile, he takes the seat next to his brother. “I bought us coffee. They wouldn’t put whiskey in it, so I brought you sugar and cream instead,” he says with a laugh.  Jason rolls his eyes as Dick offers him a cup.

“Thanks.”

“Well, Alfie’s birthday is coming-”

“I told your barrel-chested boyfriend that I would send a card,” Jason cuts him off. “Are you guys seriously going to keep hounding me about this?” Krypto whines. “No pun intended,” he says apologetically and pats his head. He’s forgiven with more tail-wagging.

“Jaybird...”

“Dick, I’m in my twenties. Don’t call me that.”

“Jaybird, we just want you to come home for a few hours and wish Alfie - the same man who snuck you menthol cigs, chilidogs and nicotine patches as a child - a happy birthday.”

“He unlocked all of the cable channels for me when I turned 14,” Jason says wistfully as he strokes Krypto’s ears. Dick nods in agreement. Alfred was truly the best.

“So, you’ll come?”

“Nope!” Jason exclaims. “But thanks for the coffee, Dickie.” With a tip of his cup, he jumps to his feet and walks off.

 Later in the safety and comfort of The Watchtower, the eldest Wayne lay his worries at Oracle's feet.

“I nearly had him, Babs!” Dick cries into Barbara’s lap. “I bought him coffee; I smiled my most charming Grayson smile; I convinced Clark to lend me Krypto; I even had a back-up carton of those horrible cigarettes he loves!  So, here did I go wrong?!”

“You thought you could win,” Barbara says mockingly. "That's where you messed up in the first place."

Dick glares up at her, a cute pout forming on his handsome face.

“You’re so mean!”

“But, I’m right,” she continues. “At least he didn’t shoot at you.”

“Yeah,” Dick says mournfully as Barbara strokes his hair. “I miss those days too.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Thursday**

They catch him on the rooftop of the Iceberg Lounge during a routine “interrogation.” Just has he had unloaded sodium pentothal into his victim, Jason was ambushed by a furry of black and green. They read his moves so easily, so fluidly. Each blow knocks the breath from his heaving lungs and soon, Jason finds himself in a heap; gasping for air and mercy.

“That’s for my shoulder,” Onyx grouses as she clasps the cuffs little too tightly. Jason glances at the scar marring the silky umber of her skin as she wretches him into a sitting position.

“Ah, how sweet,” he teases, his smile both bloody and licentious. “All this time you’ve been thinking about me?”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Black Bat says gruffly, swatting the back of his head. Without ceremony, she tosses an all-too-familiar envelope into the man’s lap. “Orders from the boss. You’re going.”

Jason snorts.

“If the Man of Steel can’t convince me, what makes you think that you can?”

“Superman is too nice,” Onyx replies with humor lilting in her voice. She smiles demurely as her partner’s fist taps against Jason’s chin. “We’re not.”

 

**Friday**

Stephanie sits on her favorite gargoyle, Dilbert the Griffin, and waits. She sips her grape Zesti as she eyes follow the Red Hood’s jaunt across Gotham’s rooftops.

Batgirl has never met Jason Todd. And she isn’t sure that she wants to. They are the two cautionary Bat-tales - it makes her stomach whorl.

Crushing the can and tossing it aside, she pounces off of Dilbert and glides across the clear night sky.  Jason must have heard her because he’s slowing down. She lands a few feet away from him, watching as his hand finds his hostler. Her mouth is dry. Her brain is throbbing. And her general pluckiness is gone.  Stephanie can’t see his face but she feels like she’s looking into a mirror.

“What?!” he spits in annoyance. "I just spent all of last night trying to get out of handcuffs and recovering from being beaten!  Can't you all just leave me the fuck alone?!"

“I’m Batgirl...Number Four,” she hears herself saying awkwardly.

“Okay,” he says, somewhat surprised by her response.

“You were Robin Number Two?” Stephanie asks.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. I was Number Four.”

“I am guessing that’s your lucky number.”

“Maybe,” she says with a slight smile. “You died and came back?”

“Yeah?”

“Me too.  Listen, You should come,” she says as indifferently as she can muster. “Not for Bruce. Bruce is a dick.”  She can hear a smile forming under his helmet. “But Alfie is good peoples.”

Before Jason can say anything (as if he would), Stephanie leaps off the roof and out into the open air. She lands onto the street below and fighting the urge to look back, she mounts her cycle and drives off. It’s only when she reaches Barbara’s tower that she allows herself to breath.

 

**Saturday**

“You were so close,” Barbara says consolingly. The two Batgirls meet at a cafe for some deliciously baked goods and sympathy. “Bruce said Jay came by the manor.” When Stephanie casts her an incredulous look she adds: “Well, he came by, stood at the door for a full two minutes, and then, he walked off.”

“I was close...  So, who goes today?”

“Damian,” her mentor says with a sigh. “And he already went this morning...” Suddenly, Barbara feels the need to rummage through her purse for some anti-acids. She swallows one, drains her chamomile tea and downs two of her scones.

“W-What did he do?”

“What Damian does best - act with little regard to human life. Dick says it’ll take months and a cool million from the Wayne Foundation to repair the damage done to Gotham General’s East Wing.” Barbara holds her stomach with a grimace. Stephanie offers Barbara her other muffin, who finishes it in several bites. “He’s going to kill me with all this stress eating he makes me do.”

“Yup.  But hey, when you win, can I have some of that money, Babs?”

“Nope,” she replies easily. “I’ve got my eyes on some new features for my chair - a heated seat and a remote DVR recording function.”

“Someone is fancy!”

“Damn straight,” Barbara says with a smile. “Now, do you want to split a basket of cookies with me?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Sunday**

  
It’s hazelnut.  Or at least that’s what Jason thinks it is as the scent of freshly made coffee ekes its way into his shower stall.  He sighs.  It’s probably another Bat but he won’t know for sure.  They are a persistent bunch (to say the least).  He tears himself from the delightfully scalding cascade with a groan and ties a towel around his waist.  Jason pads his way over to the medicine cabinet where, next to his multi-vitamins and pain killers, he keeps a fully loaded gun.  
  
He left the shower running before slipping into the hallway.  
  
"Good."  
  
The safety comes off with a satisfying  _click_  as he exits.   
  
Maybe it’s Talia, Jason muses to himself as he creeps through the corridors.  Maybe she’s testing me...again.   
  
But it's wishful thinking.  And whoever his special guest is, he most certainly cannot keep them waiting.  As he approaches the living room, Jason hears the clangor of pots and pans.  His eyes fall to a shadow stretching across the hardwood floor and within seconds, he recognizes the silhouette.  With a sigh, he's through the doorway in an instance; his gun trained at his intruder's head.  
  
“Ms. Gordon, turn around!”

A red-haired woman slowly lifts her occupied hands into the air.   
  
“You gonna shoot an unarmed person... in a wheelchair no less?” she asks slyly as she waves a spatula and a frying pan. “Kitchen is a mess, by the way."  
  
Jason snorts.  He quickly crosses the room and wrenches the blankets from Barbara’s legs.  Fastened to her chair are a pair of Escrima sticks, a canister of mace and a taser.    
  
“Planning a party, Babs?” he chides as he tosses the blanket back onto the floor.  
  
“No, I just live in Gotham.” she replies smoothly.  Jason laughs and gestures to the stove with his gun.  
  
"Get to it."  
  
"That's what I was trying to do anyway," Barbara says tersely, slamming the pan down onto the stove.  Leaving her be, the man makes his way over to nearby cupboard.  He throws the door open and rummages wildly, not caring as it's contents fall out onto the counter top below.  
  
“Batgirl is making me breakfast?” he asks jeeringly as he finds and fishes a highly-desired cigarette from a cracked sugar bowl.  “Haven’t had that dream since middle school...”  
  
Barbara snorts humorlessly as pours beaten eggs into the sizzling pan.  He winks at her and leans over the gas stove for a light.  It takes all her willpower not to push him into it.    
  
“Put some clothes on.  I’m cooking here.”    
  
“How did you find me?” he calls as he retreats to his room.    
  
“Seriously?!” Barbara shouts over hiss of the skillet. “I’m Oracle!  Scrambled is ok?”  Jason grunts in the affirmative as he re-enters and makes a beeline for the dish rack.  He pulls out plates, cups and cutlery and piles them onto the rickety table.  The sounds of cheap china clinging and greasy bacon sizzling in the tiny kitchen with a sort of sentimentality that fills Jason with disquiet.  
  
He wakes from his trance as Barbara forces a cup of coffee into his hand and rolls off.  With a wry smile, Barbara gestures to the seat opposite of her before they tuck in.  They eat in relative silence - Jason only stopping to praise her rudimentary culinary skills.   When they finish and Jason lights his after dinner cigarette, Barbara reaches into her purse.  She tosses a bright green envelope by his place setting, looking at him with amused defiance.  But Jason just looks at them both warily.    
  
“I am not going,” he states flatly. "When are you morons going to get this through your fucking steel-plated skulls?"  

Barbara simply rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her inky coffee.  
  
“Why not?" she says with the a satisfied smack of her lips.  "And that isn’t just an invitation.  I’ve set up a place for you guys to meet.  No Bruce, no Bats.  I promise.  So, just come.”  
  
“Because...”  
  
“Because what?”   
  
“Because, Barbara, what am I supposed to do?  Roll up and have cake with Alfred like everything is fucking copacetic?!” he shouts.  Jason feels his control deteriorating with each word and suddenly he he's on his feet with his fingernails are digging painfully into the splintered tabletop.   
  
“Enough of this pity party!" Barbara shouts back.  "Jay, stop blaming yourself for other people’s actions.  Stop letting this get in the way of your life!”  
  
“What does that have to do with this crap?!”  
  
“Everything!” she hollers, slamming and shattering her mug on the table.  Jason winces at cuts lining ridges of her palm.  “You were 15!  You didn’t do anything you weren’t trained for or prepared to do!  And what happened to you wasn’t anyone’s fault but theirs!”  
  
"What are you talking about?  I disobeye-"  
  
"And so the price is death?  For your so-called 'disobedience?'" Barbara asked incredulously.  "Listen to me.  Bruce should have never left you alone knowing damn well that your mom was inside and at the mercy of the Joker!  What 15 year old, cape or otherwise, makes 'good' decisions?  Bruce was the adult.  And in the end, they messed up.  Not you!"

Jason’s words fail him for a moment as he falls back into his seat.  He’s too afraid to ask Barbara if she was talking about the Clown or the Bat or Sheila.   But then his anger reminds him that it’s still there, roiling inside of him like a molten wave.  
  
“Well, fuck you, Babs!” he spits. “You didn’t die!”  
  
“Jason:  One, I am not here to compete with your suffering.  And two, you don’t think I’ve heard that nonsense too?  'If only you had listened to Bruce or your father...'; 'If only I had never been a crime fighter...'"  she paused, her hand forming into a fist.

"It’s a crock of crap!  You could have gone in there with him and still have been killed.  Joker could have shot me, even if I wasn’t Batgirl or the commish's kid! Meanwhile, the man we believed would go to no lengths to avenge us, was too busy crying over a display case and laughing it up with that green-haired nut-job on top of Arkham...”  The bitterness in her voice is potent, pure and Jason becomes painfully aware of Barbara’s chair as it squeaks and groans with every word.   

“You know, when I was paralyzed, I wouldn’t leave my house.  My dad would come by all the time to convince me to get in the chair.  But I was so angry about losing my legs, Jay.  Then, I heard you got killed and I knew I couldn’t lay around anymore.  I left my house for the first time to watch them bury you.  And after I rolled over Bruce’s foot several times, I realized that I couldn’t let my anger get in the way of doing what you and I were meant to do - to protect innocent lives and to be there for the ones we love.”  
  
“Look, Barbara,” Jason ventures, voice quavering.  “Thanks for breaking into my apartment to make me breakfast and to yell at me and everything, but you don’t understand.  I just can’t see him. I’m not that Jason anymore.  I’m not his bright little boy in scaly underoos.”    
  
“Of course not,” she says resolutely, wheeling over to his side.  Jason closes his eyes as her hand covers his.  It's warm, soft but it alien.  “And while he isn’t pleased with your new persona, he really just wants to see you.”  
  
With a sigh of resignation, the man snatches the envelope and tears it open.  Jason reads the directions quietly, the lines on his young face softening with each word.  After a few moments, he gives a slight nod.  Barbara’s eyes light up with small hope.  
  
“I’ll wait for 15 minutes.  You’re late.  You lose.”  
  
“He’ll be there.”  
  
“And no Bats.  You promised.”  
  
“No Bats.  Just Alfred.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Now,” Barbara says with a slight smile as she dabs her watery eyes with her sleeve.  “Is it true that you slept with Damian’s mom?”  
  
“How do you know that?”  
  
“I am Oracle.  Now get me some coffee.”

 

**Monday**

  
Dick pulls Alfred’s scarf over his nose and smooths the flaps his hat against his face.  There’s no wind but they are not taking any chances.  
  
“Don’t go too fast!” he cries, wringing his hands.  “If his hat comes off, he might catch a cold!”    
  
“I won’t.”  
  
“Don’t let them out of your sight!” Tim chimes in.  “I wouldn’t past Jason to run off with him.”   
  
“I'll be nearby,” Kal says with a gentle smile.    
  
“Don’t drop the cake either,” adds Stephanie. “I worked really hard on it!”  
  
“Of course, Ms. Brown,” Alfred says through his scarf.  
  
They turn to face Bruce, whose permanent scowl has intensified tenfold.  
  
“Just,” he begins slowly.  “Just be careful.”  
  
“Of course,” Superman reassures his friend.  And with that, they take off into the night sky for Gotham.

~~~

The bay is calm.  Its sable water lap gently against the docks, as Jason makes his way to Pier 23.  He climbs up to the warehouse window, carefully avoiding the watchman below.  He wrenches open the window and drops down to the floor.  He takes a step back in surprise.  There in the heart of the room, is a small table decorated with a simple white tablecloth and several candles.    
  
“So glad you could make it,” a lazy drawl echos in the darkness.  
  
“Alfred...” Jason says ruefully as the man appears by his side.  
  
“I cannot understand a word you are saying through that bucket you call a helmet.  Take it off and let me look at you.”  
  
Shakily, Jason’s fingers find the latches of his helm and with a clack, its falls open to the ground.  Alfred doesn’t waste anytime and closes the distance between them.  His hands are warm as take hold of Jason’s chin.  He turns his face side to side, inspecting every line and every pore.  
  
“Young man,” Alfred said sternly. “You look horrible.”  
  
“Thanks, Alfie.”  
  
“Are you eating?”  
  
“Babs made me breakfast.”  
  
“You haven’t been sleeping well enough, have you?”  
  
“No... Not really.”  
  
“And one should hope not! Given your recent, unsavory behavior, I am shocked you even sleep at all.”  
  
Jason says nothing.  He simply shuffles his feet like a scolded child.  With a sigh, Alfred moves to sit at the table and he follows suit.  
  
“Should I...sing Happy Birthday?” Jason asks as the take their seats.  
  
“Has your singing improved since you were a child?”  
  
“N-no, I don’t think so.”  
  
“Then, I would prefer it if you did not.”  At Jason’s sullen smile, he adds: “But since it is my birthday, I want you to talk to me.  I want you to tell me everything that’s on your troubled mind.”  
  
He tenses, feeling himself rise to his feet as if to flee.  But then, a shadow, small but stark against the silvery moon, catches his attention.  Jason snorts.  He knows there is no escape.  Accepting his defeat, he flops down into his chair.  
  
“I thought birthdays were supposed to be happy.”  
  
“This one will be when you indulge this old man.”  
  
So, his story spills unending from his tired lips.  Alfred gasps in all the right places - being buried alive, digging his way out, emerging from the Lazarus Pit and his first few, real kills under Talia’s tutelage.  But then, Jason finds himself talking about Sheila and how his last moments were wasted on a woman who didn’t give a damn about anyone but herself.  And how he watched Catherine, a drug addict and a prostitute (his  **real**  mother) suffer and die during those cold winter nights.  He talked about his anger at his father - both of them; his anger at their betrayals; his fear that he was being used to everyone’s end but his own.  Though Talia loved him like a mother, he knew full well he was just her lifeline to Bruce.  Jason even spoke about his petty jealousies with Dick and Tim.  
  
“It’s like I’m not even in the running,” he hears himself say.  “Bruce prefers a memorial to his...son.  I am a cautionary tale.”    
  
“That’s not true,” Alfred says.  “Not even in the slightest.”  
  
“But did he mourn me?  Does he mourn me?  Or does he mourn his failure?”  
  
“To Master Bruce, it’s one in the same.  Everyday he is reminded that he’s lost you and is  **still**  losing you.  And when he talks about your death to the others, it’s not them he is cautioning but himself.  Many have questioned whether or not the Bat is the source or solution of Gotham's unending madness... But losing you, seeing what you’ve become now... I fear the former hearts away at his heart.”  
  
"I don’t know if I can ever go back.  Or if I can ever really forgive and forget, Alfie.”  
  
“Of course you can’t go back nor will you ever truly forget.  But where you are now, who you are now - all of that will change with time, if you let it.  This I promise you."  
  
They had talked for so long, he didn’t notice that Alfred had moved to sit beside him; that the candles had grown short; that Stephanie’s cake had gone uncut and uneaten.  He looks Alfred.  A hopeful smile is drawn on that old face.  And it’s all he ever wanted.  For someone to look at him with love, instead of pity.  Jason decides that he wants this joy as brief as it may be.  He decides to eat cake.  He decides not to make a fuss over the Kryptonian in the window.  It’s a birthday party.  It’s time to celebrate.  


**Tuesday: Epilogue**

  
“Enjoying your thirty pieces of silver, huh?” Stephanie muses as she closes the door behind her.  “How’s the seat warmer?”  
  
“It’s so good,” Barbara purrs.  “And with my remote DVR function built into my armrest, I’ll never miss another episode of Project Runway.  How did the party go?”  
  
“You didn’t wire the warehouse?”  
  
“No,” her mentor says simply.  “I felt like I would finally cross the line into voyeurism.”  
  
“Seriously?  You used a security camera to scope out hot chicks for Bruce at cocktail parties,” Stephanie says flatly.  “You have a Dick Grayson Cam.  A Dick-Cam!” She points at a monitor sitting to Barbara’s right where Nightwing is scaling a chain link fence.  Barbara coughs in embarrassment and turns it off.  “But I want to know, how did you know you were going to win this, Babs?”  
  
“Because I am me.”  
  
“So humble.”  
  
“And Jaybird and I have a deep understanding.  People whose entire lives were ruined by the Joker, please raise your hands,” she says curtly.  “Now, go get ready.”  
  
“Barbara Gordon,” Stephanie grouses.  “Bossier than the Bat himself.”  Her grumbles trail her exit into the changing room.  Barbara plucks a chocolate strawberry from a fruit bouquet, hidden from view and takes up the small card that came with it.  It's dark chocolate - a perfect mixture of bitter sweetness that summarizes her victory and the giver's gift up so well.  
  
“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Wayne,” she says silkily, popping another strawberry into her smiling mouth as she flings the card into the trash.  “You’re quite welcome.”


End file.
